Dust
by themusicain
Summary: Calls go unanswered. The skies remain clear. John Tracy wants to know why.
1. A Remote Island in the Pacific

**woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!**

**i haven't been on in aaaaaaaaaaages! well, i've been on, had a look at some stories, but actually properly logged in and reviewed and written? nope.**

**apologies to anyone who's been waiting for updates to my last story, which i believe is still unnamed -ahem- but i seriously ran dry with that one. i knew where i wanted it to go, it was just a matter of getting it to go there that was the problem. i think i'm gonna have to leave it and come back to it in the future, maybe even re-write it and re-post it.**

**but here i am now with this. the idea came to me just last night, believe it or not. it's very different to any fan fic i've written, and, to be honest, a bit darker, but i do intend to still chuck in some laughs along the way.**

**so, without any further ado, allow me to introduce my new fic:**

Dust

A Remote Island in the Pacific

"Wouldn't it have been faster to go by plane?"

John simply continued to stare ahead the island as it gradually grew larger.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," she continued, heedless of his silence. "I like sailing, _love_ it, in fact. I used to go all the time with my dad, you know, learning to fish, all that sort of thing. Camping trips along the river... but that doesn't mean I don't have a concept of time," she finished, giving a slightly vicious tug on a piece of tarpaulin that had come loose, dragging it back into place. "I thought you said there was no time to lose?"

"I also said that we had to avoid detection," he said quietly, eyes still fixed on the island. "We have no idea what we're going to find there, Karen, and if there _is_ someone there that shouldn't be, they're much less likely to be looking for a boat than a plane. And we can sneak up to the far side of the island, undetected, whereas a plane would _have_ to land on the runway."

"Okay, okay," Karen said irritably, flicking some wayward strands of purple hair out of her face. She pulled off her scarf and used it to tie her hair back off her face. This done, she leaned back against the railings and regarded John thoughtfully. He hadn't moved from this spot ever since they'd first spotted the island on the horizon. Despite the neutral look on his face, Karen could detect a tenseness in the way his thin frame leant against the railings on the bow of the small fishing boat. He was nervous.

She turned round to look at the remainder of their motley crew. The skipper, the guy who actually owned the boat, was definitely the oldest one there, although the weird English guy with the large nose was a close second. There was Darren, her boyfriend, and an old friend of John's; that was the only reason she was on this stupid boat, as far as she could see. And sitting up beside the skipper, poring over reports and maps on her pink laptop, was the English aristocrat. The English guy often referred to her as "m' lady," despite the woman's attempts to get him to refer to her in a more informal manner. John had eventually intervened.

"Give it up, Penny," he said. "Old habits are hard to break, and I can promise you these guys won't give you away."

Karen suspected that John hadn't realised she was listening. "Penny" and her friend seemed to be the only ones who knew what John was about; as far as the skipper- whose name was Abe- was concerned, this was just another job, and well-paid enough to make it worth his while. As far as she knew, Darren knew as much as she did, and if he knew any more, he certainly hadn't told her.

And what did she know?

Two weeks ago, she and Darren had gone to the bar down the road in search of some "real" drink, instead of the non-alcoholic stuff served at the air field. They'd barely touched their first glass when John had walked in.

Darren had shot up, obviously both pleased and alarmed to see his old friend. It was easy to see why: John was incredibly pale, and he looked as if he hadn't eaten well in some time. His blue eyes had a saddened, haunted look. Even though she'd never met him before, Karen had known there was something wrong.

John had sat down opposite them after some brief introductions, refusing the offer of a drink. He'd remained silent for a moment, his eyes closed and his forehead resting gently on the tips of his long fingers. Karen had taken the opportunity to study the young Tracy. She'd heard of Tracy Enterprises, of course, who hadn't? She remembered catching the odd glimpse of the famous Jeff Tracy on TV, and she had to admit, there was some family resemblance, though not enough that she could have identified him without Darren's introduction.

Finally, John had looked up at them.

"I need your help."

And that had been that. A brief explanation, a request for them to join him on a boat trip to somewhere remote in the Pacific. Whilst Karen had been reluctant to help a complete stranger without more information, Darren had signed up in an instant. Later, when she'd asked why, he'd simply said, "He's my friend."

The next week, they'd met the two English people, and had begun to plan for their trip. Why two pilots were needed for a boat trip in the Pacific, Karen didn't pretend to understand. The only reason she was doing this was because it was so important to Darren.

A splash of water brought her back to the present. She glanced up at the sky- it was growing darker and more ominous by the minute. Another drop plopped down, right into her eye; she hissed and blinked furiously, then decided to head to the shelter of the skipper's control room. The others made motions to do the same, except John, who remained where he was, apparently unaffected by the rain. She rolled her eyes and called out.

"John! You can't stay out there! You'll be soaked!" She stomped back across the deck and grabbed his arm. He seemed to come out of his daze, and followed her inside.

TB

Whilst the weather wasn't bad enough the put the boat in any danger, it was enough that they had to stay inside for several hours even after they had reached the island, on the far side as John had instructed. Now they sat around waiting for the rain to ease off: the skipper hulked in one corner, meditatively puffing on a pipe which the English woman occasionally glared at. The woman herself was in the opposite corner, with the man and John, the three of them reading the reports together and talking in hushed voices. Darren had fallen asleep, his hoody pulled up to cover half his face. Karen was making dinner at the tiny stove in an attempt to feel useful- if nothing else, she could make a mean pot of soup.

She prodded Darren awake and handed him his bowl, and a hunk of bread. The skipper gave a small grunt of thanks when she handed him his. The English guy slurped noisily at his, making appreciative noises, whilst the woman smiled in thanks, if a tad distractedly. Karen ladled a bit extra into John's, and handed him a really big piece of bread; despite filling out a bit since she'd first seen him, he still looked a tad thin for her liking.

Settling down with her own bowl beside Darren, she tried to ignore the woman's whisper of, "Eat it, John, you've barely eaten all day."

TB

The next morning rose bright and clear, with no sign of the weather that had kept them awake the night before. According to Abe, this was usual in these parts, a fact that John had confirmed with a brief nod of the head. So, he was familiar with the area, was he?

Unfortunately, the area was also tropical, ergo, hot. After an hour of tramping through the jungle that covered most of the island, Karen was hot, tired, sweaty, and growing increasingly grumpy. It reminded her far too much of her survival training for her liking.

Up ahead, however, the English woman didn't seem much better. Dressed in a pink safari suit that clearly had no practical use whatsoever, she managed to keep up a steady stream of complaints under her breath that still made their way over to Karen's keen ears. Pulling her rucksack more securely into place, she strode past her as she struggled up an incline, then offered her hand down. The woman had the grace to take it.

It was another two and a half hours before they finally reached their destination- the runway of the island, which ended with a sheer cliff rising high above them. The tarmac had weeds poking through it, and the plants along the sides had grown unchecked over the lights that lined the strip of tarmac. Barely visible through the bushes, a flight of steps led up to another level of the island.

"Stay here and catch your breath," said John, dumping his bag on the ground. He strode off along the cliff face, apparently searching for something.

"Water, m' lady?" said the English guy, offering a bottle.

"Thank you, Parker," she gasped, throwing down her own rucksack and dropping rather inelegantly onto it.

Darren pulled out a couple more bottles and tossed one over to Karen. She opening it and drank greedily, then tipped the rest over her head. She sat down next to Darren.

"Just as well Abe stayed with the boat," she murmured, scratching absently at an insect bite. "I don't think he could have managed that hike."

"You're probably right," agreed Darren, lying back and closing his eyes. "You know it's been a long time since you did your survival training when your best mate from school turns up and asks you to hike through a jungle."

Karen lay down beside him.

"What _is_ he up to?"

Darren hesitated, his mouth slightly open, when John returned, a grim but determined look in his eyes.

"I found it."

* * *

**so here it is, chapter one in it's full glory :-P please let me know what you think, i know it's early days yet and you probably have no idea what's going on. or if you do, have a guess- if nothing else, i'll know exactly how obvious i'm being ;-)**

**cheers,**

**themusicain xxx**


	2. Welcome to International Rescue

**wow, a quick update. don't get used to it =P**

**thanks to those of you who've reviewed and watched this so far, it's really encouraging after such a long time of not writing. you get more of an idea what's going on this chapter, but still not quite enough ^^ 'cos i'm mean like that.**

**so, on with the chapter**

Welcome to International Rescue

"_So that's another crate of microwave dinners and two of ration packs?" said John, checking the list Alan had sent him. "And you're sure that's all we need up there?" On the screen, Alan nodded._

"_We're still stocked up on chocolate, since I knew you wouldn't take kindly to my eating it and Dad's refused to buy any more this year."_

"_I don't mind you eating your share," retorted John with a slight frown, going to the next list._

"_John, with the amount you get through, I don't really _have_ a share," Alan replied, smug in the knowledge that he was far enough away from John to be safe enough from any punishment his brother may have thought he deserved. Scott could only watch admiringly as John refused to rise to the bait. Hell, he'd have been halfway to Thunderbird Three by now to go and give the kid a piece of his mind._

"_Alan, why have you requested so many spare parts? Five was in perfect running condition when I left you with her last month."_

_Alan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, glancing over at his father's desk, where Jeff had looked up from his work with a _very_ interested expression._

"_I may have... ," he confessed in a rush._

"What_?" John groaned, and Virgil, over at the piano, hit a wrong note. He looked up and stared at Alan's portrait._

"_Alan, how the hell did you manage that?" he exclaimed, watching John sink into the nearest chair, massaging his temples._

"_More importantly, which one did you wreck?" said Jeff, frowning at his youngest son._

"_Alan, why do you do this to me?" asked John wearily, glaring up at his younger brother and suddenly wishing his arms were a bit longer; just long enough to reach into space and strangle the astronaut. "I leave you with a pristine space station, and every time I go back up, there's a repair for me to do."_

"_Hey, at least I _tell_ you!" Alan pouted. "Remember how Scott didn't tell you the water heater was on the blink, and you went to take a shower and-"_

"_Point taken and duly filed away under _Beside The Point_." John stood up again, studying the list of components again. "The back-up computer? You fried the back-up?"_

"_Listen, I had more pressing matters on my mind at the time, I-"_

"_Alan. What. Did. You. Do?"_

_This last came from Jeff. Alan glanced warily over at him and swallowed._

"_I spilt some coffee, okay? Well, technically, _I _didn't spill the coffee; the cup fell over when that tiny meteor crashed into the hull. Oh, yeah, might want a lick of paint too."_

"_Alright," Jeff said placatingly, holding up his hands, as John opened his mouth to argue. "Whilst technically not your fault, I am rather surprised that you left a mug of coffee on one of the computer terminals. And until John fixes it, you'd better hope that the main computer doesn't go offline." Alan gulped and stepped further away from the main terminal, as if he expected that just breathing near it would cause it to explode._

"_Understood. No more coffee cups near the computers."_

There'd better not be_, thought John grimly._

TB

John led them to a section of the cliff that looked exactly the same as any other part of the cliff. That is, until he pulled away a lump of rock to reveal a small panel underneath. John keyed in a code and pressed his hand to the panel. It beeped and a hand crank extended from the cliff. John took it and began to turn, but after a few moments slumped over it, panting. Parker gently took him aside and began to turn it himself.

An opening appeared in the wall, growing wider and wider with every turn. A blast of cool air whipped Karen's hair back.

"Flashlights," John panted, having still not quite recovered his breath. Everyone reached into their packs and switched on the heavy-duty torches. John went in first.

Despite the power of the lights, the beams seemed to barely penetrate the darkness; just a dusty floor, before the light was swallowed up by the darkness.

"Shine your lights over here!" John called, and they shone them against the wall, following him as he moved along. A huge switch box came into view, and John flicked every single one of them.

Stage by stage, the room came into view, lit by huge lights suspended from the ceiling. They were a massive hangar. Lined up along the sides were what looked like laboratories and workshops, but these were nothing compared to the things dominating the centre of the room.

Lined up side by side were six green pods, numbered off, and beside them sat a huge behemoth of an air craft. Although she would never want to fly something like that herself, Karen had to admit- it was gorgeous. Painted white along the sides were the words, _Thunderbird 2_. She stared, open mouthed, as John came forward and smiled at her and Darren's expressions.

"Welcome, my friends," he said, "to International Rescue."

TB

The light hurt his eyes, but he opened them anyway; he had to make sure they were all still there. Like rusty garage doors, Jeff's eyelids slowly slid open, his pupils contracting painfully in the glare. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the worst of it, and looked around the room.

Four. Four young men lying side by side on the floor, sleeping. At least, Jeff hoped they were asleep.

He sighed and leaned back against the rough wall. Every time he woke up, he went through this routine, counting his chicks, as his mother would say. And every time he felt that same giddy sense of relief that they were all there.

_Not all_.

Jeff closed his eyes wearily. _John_.

He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or concerned that his second son wasn't here with them. At least John couldn't see the torment their captors were putting them through. At least wasn't being put through it as well. But how was he? Where was he? Was he still on Thunderbird Five? Or had he managed to get back to Earth? Was he hunting for them now, this very minute?

TB

John brushed a hand along the side of Thunderbird Two, watching the dark green trail his fingertips left behind as they brushed away the accumulated dust of three months. Almost to the day.

The dust spoke of empty skies, of calls for help left unanswered. John had heard them all, stuck in space. Helpless, unable to ease the panicked cries.

He dusted his hands off and joined the others again.

"That's the hard bit done," he said. "Now it's a matter of getting inside."

"But John, you said the base was in complete lockdown," Penelope reminded him softly, reluctant to dampen any hope the young space monitor may have been feeling.

"So I did," agreed John, with a half-smile- the closest he'd come to the real thing in some time. "But the lockdown is designed to restrict the access of our enemies, not ourselves." He beckoned and led them towards another set of doors on the far wall. He knew he would have to drop the cloak-dagger-air soon, and level with Darren and Karen. But, right now, he needed to see if there was anyone still on the island. No one had answered his calls since "operation termite," as Brains had called it, had been put into action. Jeff Tracy would only have done this if there was no other choice. That's what worried John so much.

Again, the panel required a hand scan and a lengthy code, but also a series of questions. John answered them all without hesitation, until...

"Penny," he asked slowly. "What's your favourite color?"

Penelope raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and gestured towards her somewhat dishevelled suit.

"Ah, yes, of course," chuckled John, coughing loudly. He keyed in the answer.

"!"

A small turquoise blur leapt out as the door slid open, launching itself at John and shouting intelligibly in Malaysian. With the wind knocked out of him, all John could do was raise his hands in an attempt to absorb the frenzied blows aimed at him. Parker ran forward and pulled his attacker from him.

The man struggled, then fell limp and began to cry. Then he spoke in accented English.

"Is it not enough that you have already taken them away, destroyed what we stand for? Must you come to finish the job?"

John heaved himself up off the floor, gasping a little.

"Kyrano?" The Malaysian's head snapped up, his eyes wide.

"Mr John?" He smiled, and embraced John. "It _is_ you!"

John returned the hug with feeling, then stepped back.

"Kyrano, who were you talking about? Who did they take? Where is my family?"

Kyrano's face fell, and he sighed.

* * *

**seriously debated with myself whether or not to put kyrano in or not here. but i thought, hey, it can't all be disaster =P**

**as always, let me know what you think, 'cos i'll badger you every single chapter ;-) seriously, though, i need to make sure i'm not going into the realms of supreme idiocy. save that for something a bit more light-hearted...**

**apologies for any false americanisms. i'm scottish, that's my only excuse, poor as it may be. and also, any typos that irritate you, i swear i didn't see them when i checked through before uploading it. i suspect some appear in the transfer from my computer to the internet... maybe**

**cheers,**

**themusicain**


	3. Operation Termite

**more from me ^^ again, thanks for the reviews and watches, i really appreciate it.**

Operation Termite

"_Why is it that everything goes wrong on Five just as I'm about to do my next turn of duty?" John grumbled to himself, crawling out from underneath the computer terminal with a handful of singed wires. "You can't miss me _that_ much, can you, baby?" He flung the wires into the garbage disposal and grabbed a fresh set from the box beside him, snagging a circuit diagram with him as he slid back underneath._

"_Alan, seriously... what the hell?" he moaned in frustration as he started scrubbing away at flakes of dried coffee, trying to clear the connection points. How could one mug of coffee do so much damage? But it had, and John knew he would feel a lot easier if he had both computers online. He'd been working on the issue for two and a half days; every time he thought he'd completed his task, he'd find another malfunction. If he was given to paranoia, he'd say that his 'bird was trying to keep him up here with her._

_A spark shot out, and John whipped his hand back with a hiss. It was nothing, just a tiny little jolt, but it really didn't serve to lighten John's mood. He seriously hoped his father wouldn't call for a little while, asking for an update; he didn't think he'd be able to take part in a civilised conversation right at that moment._

_An insistent beeping reached his ears, and he slid back from beneath the computer terminal. Lights were flashing all over the main computer console, streams of data flickering over the screens at a speed too fast for John to read. After a few minutes, the lights stopped, the beeping stopped, and the screens flashed two smug, triumphant words:_

**DOWNLOAD COMPLETE**

TB

"They came just after the rescue in Germany," the little Malaysian- Kyrano, did John say his name was?- was saying. Karen still didn't understand what was going on, but she was liking it less and less.

Was she really at the International Rescue base? Was it possible? Or was this some really elaborate hoax? Then she remembered the look in John's eyes as he'd walked into the lounge where they all were now. That was no act.

A rescue in Germany. Karen remembered hearing about it on the news, almost three months ago. Since then, no one had heard anything from the Thunderbirds. Disaster after disaster had been reported on the news. Without the speed and aid of International Rescue, hundreds, if not thousands, had died. Local rescue services had been insufficiently equipped, unable to rescue the bulk of those who needed help.

Some people reacted with anger. _How could they abandon us?_ was the cry. Others responded with fear. World security tightened, international relations grew frayed. The air field where Karen and Darren worked was in a constant state of alert and readiness. Security had been doubled. John's voice brought her back to the present.

"Who were they?" Kryano shook his head.

"I do not know. They came and took your father, and your brothers, and my daughter." This last word was gasped, and tears rolled down Kyrano's cheeks once more. Penelope sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Darren walked over to his partner.

"What do you make of it?" he whispered.

"As far as I can see, we're in the base of International Rescue. There are bullet holes in the wall, broken furniture, and I suspect that's blood on the floor there. The machines are in their silos, gathering dust. The place is deserted but for this one man."

"Kyrano," said John, rising from his own chair and kneeling in front of the man who was so much more than a servant to his family. "Have you been here alone, all this time?" Kyrano nodded.

"They simply left me. I cannot fly, or control a boat. I cannot operate the radio. I sometimes heard your voice, calling to someone, anyone. But I could not answer you, for I did not know how."

"But you could have telecalled someone, Penelope, maybe?"

"I believe the kidnappers have disabled it."

"'E's right, Mr John," called Parker, from where he'd been trying to use the very machine in question. "H'it's completely dead."

Darren stepped forward.

"John, I'd appreciate it if you told me what was going on."

TB

John had promised to bring his friend up to speed over dinner. For now, however, he needed to search the rest of the base. And he needed to see the security tapes.

Kyrano had been unable to tell him much. But, from what John could gather, everyone had been taken. Clearly, the attackers hadn't thought much of Kyrano; perhaps they had simply dismissed him as a manservant. But Kyrano had a more detailed knowledge of the island than any of the other inhabitants. So the attackers were after something else.

Operation Termite had been activated, presumably by his father. Naturally, hundreds of records connected to International Rescue had been kept: mission logs; schematics for the machines; personnel details, including the many agents across the globe; results of tests of experiments and new materials; even newspaper clippings and news recordings detailing the public perspective of their rescues. These were kept together in a safe, as well as backed-up on the island computer. The activation of Operation Termite released a corrosive acid into the safe, which destroyed its contents. It also sent all the computer data to Thunderbird Five, or, in the event of Thunderbird Five being compromised, distributed between the International Rescue agents. The data was then erased from the computer, and a complete system shutdown was initiated. As a final precaution, every single silo was locked down, denying access to all but those with the correct codes: Jeff Tracy, Brains, or any one of the five Tracy brothers.

Operation Termite was the equivalent of Operation Cover-up magnified a thousand times.

The activation of the defence was only to be used as a final act of desperation, when no other choice was left available.

_That_ was why John was so concerned.

TB

A blonde head floated above him, blue eyes gazing down. John?

"No, father, it's me, Alan."

"Sorry, son." Jeff sat up. All four boys, still there. Good. They'd threatened to take them away from him.

"We're all worried about John, father," said Scott from his corner. He started to get up, but Virgil held him down.

"I _told_ you, Scott, you've got to let that wound heal." Scott rolled his eyes, and Gordon chuckled ruefully.

"Now you know how we feel when you go into mother-hen mode."

"Watch it, fishy, it's only my left arm that's damaged; my right's still as strong as ever, I could easily make mince-meat of you."

"Boys, please," moaned Jeff, massaging his temples. "I really don't want to have to mediate again. No," he said quickly as both Gordon and Scott opened their mouths. "No explanations, no accusations, just shut up."

"I saw Tin-Tin today, Alan," said Virgil softly. Alan's head whipped round.

"Is she alright?" Virgil scowled.

"She insists she's fine, but I'm less convinced. It would seem that our host's men have been rather starved of female company for some time." Alan's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. What could he say? There was nothing he could do.

"How did you manage to see Tin-Tin?" asked Jeff.

"I was questioned again," Virgil replied, gesturing to the beauty of a black eye that Jeff had somehow failed to notice. What was wrong with him? It seemed that every day, he was growing weaker, less responsive, and less aware of the changes around him. Three months.

"And?" This came from Scott.

"I said nothing of any use, just repeated what they already knew. They wanted to know who our agents were today. Last time, it was the codes, before that, the position of Thunderbird Five..."

_John_. The worry for his son was becoming an almost constant ache. Three months alone, wondering what had happened to his family.

"Do you think John's still up there on Five, father?" asked Gordon.

"I don't know. He's got enough supplies to last him a year up there, and he can keep her going longer than that. But if I know John, he's probably been doing everything he can to get back planetside." Jeff sighed. "Did you see Brains on your travels, Virgil?"

"No, father," said Virgil, shaking his head. "But I think he's still alive, though I've no idea where they're keeping him."

"This can't just be about finding out our secrets, can it, father?" said Scott. "There must be more to it than that."

"But what?" said Alan frustratedly. "They won't tell us anything, just ask for codes and information and co-ordinates."

"Maybe it's revenge," Gordon mused. "Someone whose family we failed to rescue, something like that."

"It would take a pretty twisted mind to go to all that expense just to attack us in revenge," argued Scott.

"Like it or not, those twisted minds exist, Scott, and you know it," countered Gordon.

Jeff lay back again and closed his eyes. He almost knew the conversation off by heart- it was always the same, circular conversation, over and over again.

* * *

**not sure when the next update will be. i'm off to glasgow tomorrow for my friend's 19th (even though it was on monday :-P) ah wells, hope this'll keep you going for a wee while, let me know what you think!**

**themusicain**


	4. CCTV Footage

**my apologies. this took a bit longer than expected. again, thanks for the great reviews, i'm glad to see you're enjoying it. i was genuinely worried that it may be too dark, this is a slightly newer approach to writing for me (borne from having to produce something decent for advanced higher english, no doubt =P). anyway, enjoy.**

CCTV Footage

_Virgil's music wafted softly through the lounge, trickling into the hallway and through the open French windows to the pool below, where Gordon was anticipating a long swim later. But first, he had some "business" to attend to._

_Normally, Alan would assist Gordon in his pranks, or at least wield the camera that captured the moment. However, Gordon felt that Alan was long overdue his share of pranking, and so had hatched a new plot. Nothing too fancy, nothing that required specialist equipment- with Alan, the fun lay in catching him out with the simplest of pranks. For Alan, the sheer knowledge that he had been caught out by something basic would hurt a thousand times more than any of Gordon's more top-quality gags ever could._

_He mentally browsed through his arsenal of pranks. Replacing Alan's shampoo with dye wouldn't work, the astronaut hid his toiletries after Gordon had got him with that gag when they were kids. Bucket of water on the door was far too obvious. He'd considered sending Alan loads of mail, each pretending to come from a different girl, all singing his praises; but that would be more effective on Valentine's Day, and he didn't want to upset Tin-Tin, either._

_There was always the possibility of filming Alan doing something embarrassing, then posting it on the internet, but that was far too vulgar and unsubtle for Gordon's liking. No, it had to be good._

_Finally, he'd figured it out. After all, Alan was pretty much in love with his pet alligator._

_Gordon felt an affinity with the creature. Perhaps it was her love of water he admired so much, perhaps it was simply the fact that she scared the hell out of John, Virgil and, though he wouldn't admit it, Scott. The more Gordon thought about it, the more he realised the potential he had for a triple whammy. Shame John couldn't be planet-side to share in the fun about to unfold on Tracy Island._

_Bribing Laika out from her pen was easily enough; it was getting close to feeding time anyway, and the tiny reptile didn't care who was feeding her, as long as it was good. Slowly, Gordon led her into the house and into his bathroom. He'd considered hiding her in one of his brothers' rooms, but Gordon decided that would be bordering on cruelty. He snorted. As if letting them think she was on the loose wasn't._

_This done, Gordon made his way the lounge and flopped onto the couch, pretending to read a magazine he picked at random from the coffee table before him._

"_Wow, Gords, that's subtle," mocked Scott from his position by his father's desk, reports spread out in front of him. "Saunter in and pretend to read one of Tin-Tin's magazines, yeah, we're _really_ not gonna realise that you're up to something." Jeff's head snapped up, frowning at the red-head._

"_Who, what and where, Gordon?" he asked wearily._

""_Who, what and where", father?" Gordon answered innocently._

"Who_ have you pranked, _what_ have you done, and _where_ have you done it?" Jeff clarified, happy to play along for the time-being. Hell, _any_ distraction from these reports for a little while was a blessing._

"_I don't know what you mean," said Gordon lightly, putting down the gossip magazine and selecting one of his own diving ones._

_At this point, Alan rushed into the room, wide-eyed. Seeing that everyone was staring at him, he swallowed, composing himself. "Ahm... yes..." He grimaced, aware of the reaction he was about to receive. "Has anyone seen... Laika, anywhere?"_

_Eyes swivelled to Gordon. He sighed, disappointed at the lack of panic on his brothers' behalf. "I hid her in my bathroom, if you must know."_

"_No, you didn't," said Alan. "I suspected you straight away, so I checked your bathroom, and all the others. She's nowhere in sight."_

"Whaaaaaaaaaat?_" Gordon yelped, sitting up straight. At the piano, Virgil hit a wrong note and went pale. Scott, on the other hand, flushed a deep scarlet._

"_You _idiot_, Gordon!"_

"_Don't worry, she'll turn up," said Gordon quickly, aware that, somehow, his prank had backfired. How had that happened? He was the master, after all._

"_Gordon, you better find her, I'm _not _having that monster running about the house!"_

"_She's _not_ a monster!" pouted Alan. Before the argument could get any more heated, the eyes on Alan's portrait flashed._

_Jeff cast a curious glance at his youngest son, who shrugged; for some reason, Brains always used Alan's portrait when he wanted to inform Jeff of something important. Jeff pressed the button._

_Alan's face was replaced with a radar screen, showing a large aircraft heading their way._

"_Is anyone expecting any visitors?" Jeff asked warily. Everyone shook their heads, eyes fixed on the small pulsing dot as it neared its way to the base._

"_It's coming in to land," Scott noted._

"_Hmm..." Jeff waved at Gordon, and the aquanaut leaned forward to press the button that would initiate Operation Cover-up. On the wall, the boys' portraits changed to show them in casual clothes, in various poses._

_There was nothing to do but wait. Jeff opened the drawer in his desk a crack, reassuring himself that the gun was there. Hopefully, he wouldn't need it, but with the unidentified craft refusing to answer their hails he didn't want to take any chances._

_They didn't have long to wait. A loud banging and a scuffle out in the corridor brought them all running._

_Kyrano was struggling in the grip of a man three times his size, whilst Tin-Tin was restrained by another two. The fourth man had a gun held over both of them. Upon hearing the Tracys arrive, he turned and smiled coldly. His eyes seemed to flicker._

"_I wouldn't try anything, Mr Tracy," he said, gesturing at the gun in Jeff's hand with the barrel of his own. "You know I'm far too close to these two for you to get a clear shot." As if to reinforce this, he stepped back a little further, standing firmly between the Kyranos._

"_M-mr Tracy!"_

_It all happened so fast, John would have to play it back in slow-motion when he reviewed the security tapes. Brains ran, panting, up the stairs that led to his lab, having heard the disturbance. The man with the gun had aimed and fired without blinking._

_And Scott had leapt forward, pushing Brains out of the way, only to receive the bullet in his own arm. A second bullet was fired a second later, straight into Jeff's hand, knocking the gun away. Jeff gasped in pain, clutching the bleeding appendage. Whilst none of his fingers had been blown off, it had been close._

_Jeff Tracy then made the one decision he'd hoped he would never have to take._

_He ran back into the lounge, blood dripping from his hand. He knew the man was right behind him, that he had only seconds. He ripped away the small portrait of his deceased wife from its position on the wall behind his desk to reveal a small, black switch. He pressed it._

_At once, the monitor behind the desk went wild, symbols and phrases flashing across. A computerised voice echoed throughout the room, even as their attacker reached him._

"Lockdown of Thunderbird silos: activated. Status of documents: destroyed. Downloading all files and data to Thunderbird Five._"_

_Then, a moment later:_

"Download complete._"_

TB

On screen, John watched as his father, brothers, Brains and Tin-Tin were dragged away and into the strange craft. All that was left was a sobbing Kyrano, curled into a ball in a corner of the hallway.

"Enough," he said, turning away from the heart-wrenching sight. Beside him, the real Kyrano trembled, as if the tears were threatening to make a re-occurrence.

"Forgive me, Mr John, I could not-"

"There was nothing you could have done, Kyrano," Penelope said, laying a hand over the Malaysian's.

They were all in the lounge, in a semi-circle around the monitor. John stood up and began to pace.

"Well, now we know," he said, completing lap after lap of the room. "We can see from the tapes, the attackers knew my father's identity. What they were after still remains unclear, but father's activation of Operation Termite clearly indicates that my father believed they were after International Rescue's secrets."

"They could just as easily have been after something to do with Tracy Enterprises, John." John shook his head.

"No, Penny. I suspect that coming here indicates they wanted I.R's secrets."

"So why take them away with them? Why not attempt to break into the silos?"

"Penny, those silos are as good as impregnable. I don't think they had the equipment." He sat back down, and leaned back, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"How much sleep have you had recently?" Penelope asked sharply. "Your Grandmother's after frequent reports, I really don't want to tell her you've collapsed from exhaustion."

"Then don't," countered John quietly. "It's bad enough she's been worrying for the past three months, without her worrying about _my_ health. She was concerned enough when I visited her when I got back planet-side. She's staying with the Grays," he added to Kyrano's quizzical look. "They're the first people she contacted after no one came to collect her after her shopping trip."

Darren coughed a little, bringing the attention towards himself and Karen.

"Sorry, but I think we're still a little in the dark. For a start, how did you get back down the Earth?"

"That," said Penelope firmly, "is a very good question. I've been trying to wrangle the answer to that one out of him ever since he contacted me."

* * *

**-cough- set up much! -cough- =P hopefully my next update will be a bit quicker, but don't say i didn't warn you (as i did... at the very beginning ;-))**

**cheers,**

**themusicain**


	5. Radio Calls

**hey, that wasn't toooooooooooooo long, was it? -ahem-**

**again, thanks for the reviews, those of you who did. part of the main trouble with this coming chapter was trying not to make the first bit too clichéd. suspect i may have failed, but... oh well =P**

**apologies if there are any missing "s"s, the s key on my laptop's playing up a bit. i think there might be a bead stuck under it... anyways, enjoy!**

Radio Calls

Virgil glared through his good eye, preferring to leave the other closed in the puffy slit it had been reduced to.

"We go through this every time," he said exasperatedly. "What makes you think this time's gonna be any different?" He earned another slap for his efforts.

"The codes to the hangars, if you please."

"Why do you always pick _me_?" Virgil wondered aloud, cocking his head to one side and assuming as puzzled an expression as his bruised face would allow. "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather you beat me up than my father or my brothers, but, you know..." he shrugged, which was the closest he could get to gesturing at his bruises with his hands tied behind him. This time, he was rewarded with a punch to the stomach. He wheezed, and his interrogator allowed him to regain his breath again before repeating his request.

"The codes."

Every few days, Virgil would be taken from the cell he, his father and his brothers shared, tied to the same chair in the same brightly lit room and beaten and asked for information. Virgil was past the point of feeling pressured or put-upon; it was just tedious now, repetitive, not to mention clichéd to a fault. He was surprised that they hadn't cottoned on, really. If he had been in their place, he'd have changed his methods long ago.

His interrogator was tall, and fairly thickset, although Virgil could see it was all muscle under there. He was also incredibly sadistic.

Same face every time. Virgil wasn't sure if they really wanted information, or if they just wanted to get this guy to work off some steam.

Today, though, something different happened.

Half-way through their little session, the door opened, and three people stepped in.

One of them was Tin-Tin.

She was pale, tired-looking and dishevelled. The tense way she held herself, and the frightened looks she darted at Virgil's interrogator made his heart burst for her. She had clearly been having a rough time at this man's hands, though not in the same way Virgil had. On seeing Virgil, her expression turned to a mixture of joy and sympathy, and also a yearning. Virgil nodded very slightly, and she relaxed; Alan was safe.

The second person was Brains.

Virgil hadn't seen him since the attack on the island. He looked just as bad as Tin-Tin. Virgil wondered what they'd been doing with him. Probably making him design technology for them, or trying to get him to recreate the destroyed schematics of the Thunderbird machines. Virgil sincerely hoped Brains _hadn't_ caved, but he really didn't know how high Brains' pain threshold was.

The third person looked vaguely familiar, although Virgil wasn't sure where he'd seen him before.

He was completely bald, with fierce eyes that seemed to glow underneath his thick brow.

Wait, _glow_?

With a jolt, Virgil remembered Tin-Tin and Brains telling him about the stranger in the desert, the one with the staring, glowing eyes...

"I've seen from the footage of these interrogations that you are becoming somewhat bored of them, yes?" he said smoothly. "I admit, the methods employed were somewhat crude, and I commend you upon your continued silence. As for why we always picked you... out of all the Tracys, you fascinate me the most. I _had _hoped for a look into that complex mind of yours... but I was somewhat detained by other matters requiring my attention, hence the monotony of your questioning. Now, however, I am able to give you my undivided attention." His eyes shone menacingly, and Tin-Tin gasped, covering her face. Brains had turned even paler.

"So why bring them here?" Virgil asked, hoping to keep the tremor from his voice.

"I've often found that using others as an incentive is often a good way of extracting information. Since they know what it is that you're about to go through, they will prove much more... _accommodating_ than your siblings." He moved forward, so he was face to face with Virgil, and stared him right in the eyes. Suddenly, Virgil couldn't look away.

TB

_John slapped the side of the back-up computer in frustration. Operation Termite required a huge amount of memory, memory that the back-up had been supposed to provide. But, of course, with the darn thing frazzled and half its wires trailing out, the data had been forced to take up residence in the main computer. John didn't even want to _think_ about how much had been deleted in order to make room. Hopefully, the majority would be his literary works, which he always kept backed-up on CDs and memory sticks anyway; but he suspected some other stuff had been removed as well._

_Naturally, he'd tried to call base, but he hadn't really expected a reply. If everyone down there was in trouble, the last thing they'd be able to do was answer his panicked hails._

_No one had responded when he tried their watches, either. John had tried not to dwell too much on that._

_He crossed over to the radio, glad that it at least was still operating._

"_This is Thunderbird Five calling all International Rescue Agents," he said heavily, trying not to sigh. "Calling all International Rescue Agents. Operation Termite has been activated. I am unable to make contact with Base. Please, do not attempt to contact Base yourself, that frequency _must_ be kept clear. Do not attempt to approach Base. Please stand by for further instructions." It took all his will power to add, _whenever that may be._ "Five out."_

TB

"So what then?" asked Karen, her eyes wide.

"I spent the next couple of months repairing the back-up, trying to contact the guys, and figuring out what the hell I was gonna do," replied John, closing his eyes and grimacing. "I know that doesn't seem like much, but time sure can fly when you're wondering about the whereabouts of your family.

"I spent a lot of time trying to co-ordinate the agents from Five, getting them to collect information, any clue. But I couldn't send them to the island. There's nothing they could have done. Lockdown means _lock down_. I'm the only one who could have got back into those silos.

"I was tempted to send someone there to search the house, but without knowing what people were going to find there, I didn't think I could justify sending anyone there into unknown danger."

"All this time," murmured Darren. "People have died, because there was no one there to save them. Because the rescuers themselves needed rescuing."

John nodded, and a haunted look crossed his face.

"Eventually, I gave in. I really didn't want to have to involve anyone else, but I had to. So, I put a call through to the nearest NASA space station, and they came and picked me up. Gave a few old colleagues a funny turn, I can tell you," he laughed hollowly.

"Then I made my way to England, to find Penny."

Penelope bit her tongue, keeping herself from mentioning the thin, pale man who had all but collapsed on her front doorstep. John had barely slept or eaten for those two months on Five. She'd insisted on keeping him in her mansion for a month before allowing him to put together this mission back to the island. Even now, he was still weaker than she would have liked. She almost constantly kept her eye on him, safe in the knowledge that Parker would watch him in the event she couldn't.

Even more difficult had been keeping a very worried Mrs Tracy away. When no one had been there to pick her up, Mrs Tracy had contacted Penelope. This was shortly after John had sent out the message to the agents. Penelope had explained the situation as best she could, had even offered to arrange to fly her over to stay with her. Penelope had been so glad she had refused when it had come to telling her that John was back on Earth.

"So why us?" asked Karen, seeing that John had finished his story, but pretty sure he hadn't told them everything.

"You're both pilots, and I trust Darren. Normally, it's against I.R's policy to work with military organisations, but needs must... I'm gonna have to ask you to fly the 'birds."

"You _what?_"

TB

"_International Rescue, help! Please! Can you hear me? International Rescue, come in, _please!_"_

John sat bolt upright, chest heaving, sweat trickling down his face and neck into his T-shirt. I was two in the morning, and all the others were in bed. John had gone to his own bedroom, and fallen asleep quickly. Then the nightmares had begun again.

He leaned forward, his head in his hands. That one had been a bus-load of school kids on a trip with their teacher, on the edge of a ravine. It had been so difficult to ignore the woman's panicked calls as he continued to fix the back-up. He'd done what he could, got the local rescue agencies involved. Fortunately, that one had turned out alright. John had had to sit through many more that hadn't.

* * *

**so, guess who's arrived? i really hope this isn't getting too dark, but... it's a dark story, to be fair.**

**pleaaaaaaaaaaase review so i don't have to pathetically beg you... too late...**

**not sure when my next update will be. i have music to learn, essays to write, harmony exercises to sob over... =P spot the music student**

**cheers,**

**themusicain**


	6. All in the Mind

**my sincerest apologies, i know this took a while. my excuse is that my laptop was invaded by a rather unpleasant virus/scam which took some getting rid of. matters weren't helped by the fact that my nearest computer geek seems to have changed his mobile number, my uncle, the next nearest, was in america, and my dad, who knew exactly what to do, was at the other end of the country, and i'm not going home for another few days. no matter, however, 'tis sorted now. and i did warn you all about possible delays in uploading, so... -sticks out tongue like the mature student she is- =P**

**anyways, hope you enjoy. it's a bit shorter than previous chapters, but i think here we'll go for style over substance, yes? ;-P**

All in the Mind

Tin-Tin struggled against the guard's grip as she watched in horror. Virgil was clearly in pain, trying to resist the attack on his mind.

"Stop it!" she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Stop!"

"Will you tell me what I want to know?" The man's voice sounded odd, distant, as if he couldn't quite concentrate on both his attack and talking at the same time.

Tin-Tin just sobbed in reply, knowing she couldn't tell him anything.

Brains, however, bowed his head, and spoke softly.

"F-f-fine, I'll t-tell you."

Tin-Tin's eyes widened, and she stared at Brains in horror. The man stopped and turned around, eyes glinting eagerly. Virgil moaned.

"No, Brains."

"I'm s-sorry, Virgil." Brains straightened up. "The code is T5B4F3A2B1."

"Brains!"

The man grinned wickedly. "Return them to their cells."

TB

The helm was surprisingly quick to respond for such a huge craft, though Karen still felt some frustration as she went through the list of test programmes. In her ear, John murmured approvingly, dropping a useful hint here, advising her of possible improvements there. Outside the window, she saw Thunderbird One fly circles around her.

"Show off!"

"_I haven't flown this 'bird in_ ages," replied John. "_I need to get a feel for her again_."

"By doing loop-the-loops around me as I try to master the simplest of manoeuvres?" she growled good-naturedly, turning as sharply as Two's bulk would allow and forcing John to move off to avoid a collision.

"_Hey!_"

"Sorry, John," grinned Karen, returning to the planned flight-path. "Guess I'm not quite there yet."

On ground beside the radio, listening to the conversation, Penelope smiled. Though she couldn't _see_ John's face, she could tell by his voice that he was smiling. And not one of those tight, grim smiles he'd been giving her for the last few weeks. A proper, relaxed smile, as John finally felt he was doing something.

"Karen's doing well," Darren said approvingly. He'd had a turn in Two earlier that day, and hadn't picked everything up nearly as quickly as his girlfriend.

Penelope nodded. "She may do poor Virgil out of a job." She sighed, and looked back up at the two craft as they made another pass over the island.

"Thinking about them?" asked Darren.

"Yes... Jeff is a very dear friend to me... as are his sons." Penelope paused for a moment as John's voice floated over the radio.

"_Penny, we're going to deploy the pod, do a circuit of the island, then return to collect it. Can you just double check there's no one approaching?_"

"Penelope to John, you're all clear." A smile softened her face again. "It's so wonderful to hear him happy," she said to Darren. "Well... happi_er_ than he has been in months. I know he's still worried, but he's finally started eating properly again, he's getting stronger by the day, and he seems to be sleeping normally again." She wiped at a tear that had edged its way down her cheek. Darren tactfully looked away until she'd regained her composure.

"I knew he was involved with something that kept him away from his family a lot of the time," said Darren in a voice bordering on awe, "but I never imagined he was involved with anything like _this_."

Penelope chuckled ruefully. "I never cease to be amazed at how Jeff has managed to keep all of this a secret. Think about it; a reclusive billionaire ex-astronaut-turned-businessman with five, strapping sons- each with experience in a variety of fields- living on a remote island, far from visual contact. When we were framed for robbing those documents, I was sure someone would figure it out. Oh, he has his ways of hiding the visual evidence, but..." She shook her head. "Maybe it just seems obvious because I'm in the know."

"Like how a puzzle always seems so easy once you've got the answer," agreed Darren. His head jerked up sharply as the pod fell onto the sea with a loud splash. "I would hate to be in that thing when it drops."

"Yes, I have no idea how Gordon can do it." Into the radio, she said, "John, correct me if I'm wrong, but was that not perhaps a little too high?"

"_Ah, it's been dropped higher_," replied John nonchalantly. Penelope shuddered.

"_My apologies if it wasn't to your liking, _m'lady," said Karen, although there was no real malice in her voice. She'd taken up imitating Parker's address, and Penelope still wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

TB

Virgil groaned. Memories washed over him... his father had returned from the hospital with a tiny Alan in his arms, but not his mother... he was fifteen and he'd found his first girlfriend in someone else's arms... he was skiing, but he was losing control, plummeting... he was trying to land a damaged Thunderbird Two, but the wheels had collapsed, the cliff was rushing to meet him... he'd landed in the desert, found Tin-Tin staring into space, unable to hear him... he heard a bang and watched as a bullet punched its way into Scott's arm...

"Easy, Virgil, calm down, we're here," said a low voice. He felt a warm hand on his cheek, wiping away tears- he'd been crying? He opened his eyes.

Jeff was leaning over him, his smile not quite erasing the worry in his eyes. He realised his head was resting on someone's lap, then Gordon poked his head into his line of vision.

"You're upside down," Virgil mumbled, moving to sit up.

"Hmm, maybe he hit you worse than I thought," quipped Gordon, helping him to lever himself into an upright position.

"What happened, Virge? Your injuries weren't enough to knock you out."

"Who's the medic here, Alan, me or you?" Virgil slid over to the wall and put his aching head in his hands. He shuddered as he remembered those eyes, and that voice, and Tin-Tin screaming, and Brains... Virgil felt a jolt in his stomach.

"What?"

"Brains..." But, after a moment thinking about it, Virgil laughed. Gordon peered at him anxiously.

"That's it, he's lost it. Hey!" he exclaimed as Scott slapped him around the head.

"Boys..." said Jeff, though he really couldn't be bothered telling Scott off; he was starting to get a bit fed up with Gordon's smart-alec comments himself, although he knew that that was how his water-baby coped with stress. "What about Brains, Virgil? Is he alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, he seemed well enough, all things considered. They brought him and Tin-Tin into the room after they'd roughed me up, and this other guy came in too. Brains and Tin-Tin seemed to know him- I think he was the guy who attacked the caravan in the desert. Anyway, he started asking me for the codes, but it was different... he just looked at me... and I couldn't look away... and then..." Virgil shuddered as he remembered the memories and images that had coursed through his mind... the pain of losing a loved one... the horror of watching someone held at gunpoint... the reluctant realisation that a mission was unwinnable... He pulled himself together. "And then... Brains gave it to them."

"He _what_?" Scott's jaw dropped.

"It's okay, Scott. He gave them _his_ one for the lab. They asked him for an access code, he gave them one- just not the one they wanted."

Scott relaxed, then he frowned. "Man, they're gonna be pissed when they find out."

"It won't matter. They don't know that they need one of us anyway, for the scan."

"Just as well," said Jeff. "That buys John a little more time."

* * *

**review? maybe? i appreciate feedback... they keep me from wandering too far into the realms of melodrama... "too" being the operative word... doesn't mean i won't dip a toe or two in ;-P**

**cheers,**

**themusicain**


	7. Of Lightbulbs, Spoons and Aeroplanes

**ahem, yes... again, sorry you had to wait, but i must point out that real life must take precedence, especially now i'm getting so close to exams and deadlines (as are most of us, i'm sure). but, it's my easter break now, so i've got more time to myself in which i can do things like... _write fan-fictions_ =P**

**but i thank you for your patience, and hope you enjoy.**

Of Light-bulbs, Spoons and Aeroplanes

Karen flopped onto the bed and sighed, stretching her cramped limbs. She'd been set to work learning to use Thunderbird Four that afternoon, and the small sub was definitely not designed with comfort in mind. Odd, really, since John had told her that that was Gordon's main craft, and Darren had told her about Gordon's hydrofoil accident and resulting weak back.

Still, at least she hadn't had to sit in the craft as it was dropped in the pod. That had been Darren's job. He was still complaining about nearly losing his lunch.

"I mean, he could have at least _warned_ me," Darren grumbled, sitting down next to her and planting a kiss on her forehead. "How Gordon puts up with it, I really don't know."

Karen sat up, leaning on his shoulder. "Do you know all of them well?"

"No, just John. I mean, I _knew_ the others, obviously, but John was my best friend." He shook his head. "I don't think I could ever imagine him going out there and saving lives. I mean, he's a great guy, I'd trust him with anything, but... going out there risking his behind? Not really quiet, straight-A John Tracy from high school."

Karen snuggled up closer.

"People change," she yawned. "I originally wanted to be a ballet dancer."

"Yeah, when you were, like, five," Darren chuckled, lying down and pulling her down with him. "I used to want to be a chef until I burnt myself making toast."

"Only _you_ could burn yourself making _toast_," Karen retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, the toaster was broken, I had to use the grill instead. How was I supposed to realise the metal got hot as well as the bread?"

The two lay silently for a moment, then Darren sighed.

"I've never seen John like this before, though." Karen propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Darren's face; his eyes were closed, a slight frown playing across his brow.

"Like what?"

"So... I don't know, _hollow_ seems the closest. He's all determination, all grim. He's barely cracked a smile since he met up with us. And he looked _ill_." Karen nodded sympathetically, setting her head back on his chest. She too closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat, with each beat allowing another image to flash through her mind. John when he walked into the bar, thin and pale... his lonely vigil at the prow of the boat... pushing away his food, untouched...

Then she remembered more recent memories. John laughing through the radio as he turned circles around the cumbersome body of Thunderbird Two... clapping Darren on the back as he emerged shaking from Four, having just been dropped into the ocean... Penelope's beady gaze relaxing as John ate the plate of pasta set before him by Kyrano...

"But he's getting better," she said after a while, and felt Darren start slightly beneath her as she broke the silence.

"Yeah..." Darren wound his arms around her shoulders, sighing. "Penelope says it's because he's finally able to do something."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's you," said Darren. "You're a lot like Gordon. You've got a sense of humour, you're rarely down, you've taken to imitating Parker, and I _know_ you were behind that "spider" that made its way into the tagliatelle last night. You're reminding him of what he's fighting for."

Karen turned onto her front slightly so she could look up at Darren's face. He smiled gently, and pulled her up the rest of the way to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Gordon? Is there something you want to tell me, dear?" she said, mock-frowning at him.

"See? That's exactly the sort of thing Gordon'd say."

TB

"Is there something you guys want to tell me?"

Virgil glared over at his younger brother. "Glad to see you've finally woken up. Honestly, I swear you could sleep through anything."

"Pots and kettles, dear brother," replied Gordon, sitting up and rubbing his stiff muscles. "But that doesn't explain why Alan's backside is _inches_ from your face, Virge." He looked his brothers up and down. Jeff and Virgil had formed a step out of their hands, upon which Alan was attempting to stand, one hand resting on his father's shoulder, the other outstretched towards one of the lights in the ceiling, and his rear end edging dangerously towards Virgil's face. Beside them, Scott watched warily, ready to catch his baby brother if he overbalanced.

"We're _trying_ to unscrew one of these light-bulbs," grunted Alan. "Virgil's convinced we can escape if we can remove one of the lights." At that point, Jeff gasped and Alan's foot fell between his and Virgil's hands. Scott and Gordon both rushed forward to catch him, and all five men ended up in a pile on the floor. Scott winced as Virgil's shoulder landed heavily on his still sore arm.

"Sorry, Scott," groaned Virgil as he levered himself into a sitting position and back-peddled to the wall. The others followed suit, and soon the room was filled with the sound of panting. Jeff was the first to speak.

"Sorry, boys," he said. "Guess I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Next time, I'll climb up and Alan and Virgil can be the ladder," said Gordon. "But first you can explain to me what it is I'm volunteering for."

"Virgil seems to think that the area above the cell is hollow," answered Scott, examining the wound on his arm.

"I _know_ it is," Virgil insisted. "I distinctly heard rodents scuttling around up there. It could be large enough for us to climb into, and escape. But first, we need to get rid of that light and have a look. I can take care of the wiring and stuff. Then we can climb in, find another exit, try and rescue Tin-Tin and Brains, and get out of here. Wherever "here" is."

"Three and a half months we've been here, Virge, and only _now_ you come up with an escape plan?" Gordon groaned and banged his head gently against the wall. "Three and a half _months_."

"I didn't hear _you_ coming up with anything, Gordon," snapped Scott. "Or at least, nothing that didn't involve spoons." Gordon opened his mouth to answer back.

"Don't even think about it, Gordon," said Jeff, glowering at his sons, daring them to argue. "You're arguments give me the worst migraines I've ever known."

TB

John did a double-take. But the result was still the same. There was a craft approaching the island.

He sent out a signal to Darren, who was out in Thunderbird One, to return to base, and called the others to the lounge. He called up the radar screen on Alan's portrait.

"Someone's approaching the island. I expect visual contact in about three minutes. At which point, if they're friendly, they'll hopefully try to make contact."

"And if they don't?"

John's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Then we'll take precautions."

Something in his look made Karen desperately hope the craft was friendly. She didn't think she could allow herself to let loose this angry Tracy on another human being in cold blood, even if that human being _had_ kidnapped his family.

* * *

**yes, a cliffhanger. how nice of me =P**

**so, like i said, easter break, more time, etc. but don't get too excited. i do have an essay to write, a debate to research, a programme to practice and a portfolio to put together. i make no guarantees (which i think i may have said when i started this... hmm). i also live at the very north of scotland, and go to uni in the south, meaning whole days can be spent travelling (well, six hours by car or something approaching seven (not including the two hours between connections) in a train, but it feels longer, and take a lot out of one, considering all i do is sit on my backside for that duration). and this easter, i'm going up and down the country quite a lot, so...**

**yeah, i make a lot of excuses. but my point is made. i shall endeavour to get chapter eight up within a fairly reasonable time frame.**

**themusicain xxx**


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